someone is sitting on the train laughing
and i think it’s probably me
and someone is sitting across from you on a crowded bus laughing
and i think it’s probably also me
and when you ask your lover why it took him so long to get here he won’t meet your eyes
there’s a voice in my head telling me to leave it alone
and it sounds an awful lot like you
i’m not a slaughterhouse. i’m not all-powerful, i’m not a god
there are dead bodies at my feet and i don’t know
how they got there
this isn’t like last time
you’re the one who wanted romance
it’s not my fault that i can’t feel anything
and there is someone in the back of your mind laughing at you
and this time it isn’t me
my name feels ***** at 2am when you’re tired
my name tastes like the end of the world, bottled up
a lit match at 2am when you’re tired
the bags under your eyes look like bruises,i wonder how you got them
and someone is sitting in your bedroom laughing
and this time it’s you